


5 Times Tony Saved Peter

by SparrowFlight246



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I’ll add more tags and characters as they appear, Mugging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 20:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16415567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowFlight246/pseuds/SparrowFlight246
Summary: ... and one time Peter saved Tony.OR, Peter is weirdly great at getting himself into bad situations, but Tony always manages to get him back out.It’s only fair Peter returns the favor every once in a while.





	5 Times Tony Saved Peter

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and happy Friday!! I’ve been wanting to do one of these 5+1 fics for forever, and it looks like today is the day. I’m so excited. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and enjoy!

Tony admittedly wasn’t much of a fan of large crowds. 

 

They all too often had too many people with no concept whatsoever of personal space and more determination to get in his way than a group of particularly dedicated paparrazi, and he generally considered them better left to their own devices than handled without considerable protection.

 

However, he did deal with them frequently enough (it was, quite literally, in his job description) and he’d long been desensitized to the typical crowd of filthy rich people he usually encountered at galas and meetings and such. They swirled around him with their groomed appearances and polite laughs, cigars held loosely in the lips of the men and earrings dangling delicately from the ears of the women, nights spent with them a blur of champagne glasses clinking and expensive, colorful materials brushing past one another as stiletto heels clicked against the tile floor, and that honestly wasn’t terrible. He could handle those guys, even if he didn’t particularly enjoy it.

 

But those New York City crowds, full of strangers and crass voices and rough hands, were just something else, and really not in a good way.

 

After Afghanistan, he didn’t do well with being touched unexpectedly by people he didn’t know, and when having to shove his way through the throng of people usually choking the sidewalks, unplanned contact with strangers was basically inevitable. Besides, just having that many people he wasn’t intimately familar with near him at once just kind of creeped him out. He avoided it whenever possible.

 

So, after a absurdly long and draining meeting, when Happy sent a text saying he was parked around the corner from the hall where the meeting had been held and that Tony would have to walk to the car himself, he had to fight to keep his grown-up persona in place and suppress the urge to whine and stomp his feet like a particularly irritable toddler.

 

He took a few moments to pysch himself up and enthusiastically curse Happy’s name under his breath, still standing in the entrance of the hall and temporarily remaining effectively shut out from the rest of the world. But then, after a few, self-pitying moments, his fate was just officially unavoidable- he reluctantly pushed open the heavy oak doors of the hall and went out to face the city.

 

He tried to stay in his happy place as he walked, ignoring the people touching him and mostly forcibly shouldering his way through the bodies blocking his way. A briefcase was clenched in his right hand, sunglasses set low over his eyes, steps brisk and head down. The faster he could go the better it was, since it would give people less of a chance to recognize him and therefore postpone his escape.

 

It was surprisingly fine until an exceptionally aggressive teenage girl nearly mowed him down with a smart phone in tow, demanding a selfie, and the yells of _oh my god, it’s Tony-fucking-Stark_ started to arise from the depths of city-dwellers. 

 

Then it was just a mad dash to the car. 

 

Walking as quickly as he could without looking like he was blatantly running away, he strut down the sidewalk to his ride with his gaze fixed straight ahead. He continued to dodge the few dedicated fans in his way, but had nearly (finally, _blissfully_ ) made it to the car when he heard a muffled yell coming from a passing alley way. 

 

And, ah, shit. That really didn’t sound good. 

 

Like, possibly-needing-intervention-by-a-certain-passing-superhero not good.

 

Damn it.

 

He slowed against his better judgement, glancing in the direction of the sound warily as his grip on the briefcase tightened. The alley stretched in the space between two buildings, darkened by shadows and rimmed with dumpsters, but Tony could still make out the commotion happening near the middle of it, with a cluster of guys in black grouped near one of the brick walls with some unfortunate soul trapped in the middle of them. 

 

Tony didn’t usually involve himself in petty crimes like this- he was a busy guy, and it was more of a job for Peter anyway. Muggings were common in the city, and he knew he couldn’t stop every one. Really, everything in him screamed to just keep walking, get to the safety of the car and just leave this one to some prospective good samaritan that would hopefully be in the area.

 

But, something still slowed his steps, and something still flared in warning and concern as he looked down the alleway. He honestly didn’t want to just walk away like he didn’t see anything, leaving the poor guy as helpless as a rabbit to a pack of rabid wolves, but the concept of stopping and intervening clearly wasn’t all that appealing either.

 

He was torn by his options. The car, just mere feet away around the corner, patiently waiting for him with the heater probably blasting in the October chill and Happy ready to get him home, where his workshop and a hot cup of coffee expected him. The mugging, with some unfortunate but, honestly talking here, probably fine man who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time and some scary looking guys hanging around in black clothing and bad intentions. 

 

Yeah, real tough choice there. 

 

Tony started to keep walking.

 

But then, as Tony’s perspective shifted and revealed the victim just a touch more, he abruptly realized just how much of a _shrimp_ the guy was. Skinny, small, and kind of short, if what Tony could see of him was to be believed. Scrawny, really, and kind of weirdly familar, with a fluffy mop of brown hair and something about the line of his shoulders ringing an alarmingly loud bell in Tony’s mind.

 

And then the realization hit him with the force of a truck, and his feet froze to the sidewalk.

 

Because _oh,_ wait, _holy shit,_ that wasn’t a guy, that was a _kid-_ _the_ kid, oh, god, that was _Peter._

 

Tony cursed passionately under his breath and hung a fast left into the alleyway. 

 

He injected a stalking note into his step as he hurried up the walk, keeping his briefcase close and guarded at his side. He wasn’t unfamiliar with criminals, but these guys just looked more like thugs, more rookie thieves than hardened fugitives. He could handle them. Peter should have been able to handle them too, but since he was clearly caught without his suit, he wouldn’t have been able to without risking revealing his identity. 

 

God, Peter. Of-fucking-course it had to be Peter. 

 

Growing closer, it was more and more glaringly obvious that the victim really was the one and only Peter Parker, pressed against the brick wall of the alley as the thugs prowled around him. Tony kept quiet as he walked, not wanting to announce himself too early and risk his element of surprise but watching warily all the same, cautious of letting this go any further than it already did.

 

As Tony approached, he heard snippets of dialogue, growled voices soft but audible. “Sure glad you tried to help that chick now, aren’t ya?” one of them was sneering to the kid, a hand curled around Peter’s throat in a way that had to be hurting, even with Peter’s enhanced abilities. Peter kept his mouth shut, glaring at the thug but not engaging. However, Tony could still see the fear just barely sketched into his face, and knew that the kid was more freaked out than he let on.

 

The thug smirked again. “Some brave guy now, huh.” He toed at the backpack pressed into the wall behind the Peter’s legs, as if trying to pull it away from him. Instantly, the kid kicked out to guard it before the attacker could do more than barely touch it, frantic to keep it safe and fierce in his defense.

 

The Spider-Man suit was in there, Tony abruptly realized, and that’s when he knew it was beyond time to intervene. Fuck surprise, he wasn’t going to let this go on any longer. 

 

“Hey!” Tony yelled, loud and brazen. He instantly caught the attention of the thugs and victim alike, the one guy’s words fading into stunned silence and one of the others cursing under his breath, shoving something in the pocket of his pants before Tony could catch sight of what it was.

 

Peter, though, just seemed to _wilt_ with relief, his breath visibly leaving his body in a whoosh of alleviation.

 

Tony continued to stalk up the alley, untouchable in his sunglasses and neatly tailored suit, the briefcase still firmly in his hand. His mind sped, trying to plan out how they were going to handle this, but he was careful to not outwardly overreact too soon, keeping Peter’s safety at the front of his mind. He didn’t know what these guys were capable of yet. “What the hell is going on here?” 

 

Instantly, the guys in black were on the offensive, a few looking alarmed and jumpy but the other, more confident ones just seeming to tense up, seemingly ready for a fight but all remaining wary. Tony purposely didn’t look Peter’s way, but he could see out of the corner of his eye that the kid was staying just still, not fighting it or even protesting, not pulling any attention to himself.

 

But seeing even a glimpse of Peter over there with his shoulders shoved against the dirty brick wall and a hand still wrapped around his throat made something twinge in Tony that felt a lot like senseless panic. He tried to redirect his attention before he did something stupid.

 

“Tony Stark, eh?” one of the thugs snarled, stopping to stare at Tony, his arms crossed over his chest, and great, new distraction until Tony could figure out what he needed to do here. The guy talking couldn’t have been more than twenty, with a buzz cut and teeth stained by nicotine. Tony assumed this guy might be the leader, but even he didn’t seem all that sure of himself, with a fidgeting step and frequent glances over his shoulder at Peter, as if reassuring he was still there. The group was jumpier and more nervous than the professionals, and Tony figured they were a bunch of newbies at the whole crime life, probably more desperate than experienced. 

 

And if the actual _conversation_ towards Peter priorly attempting to be initiated by one of the guys had anything to say about it, Tony could almost be positive that these guys were rookies. You just don’t do that. 

 

“Iron Man, actually,” Tony said nonchalantly as he took his sunglasses off, neatly tucking them inside the breast pocket of his suit. He let his eyes wander over the thugs, maybe half a dozen of similarly young, inexperienced kids in varying positions of uneasy tension, before settling his gaze back on the leader, voice blunt but brimming with warning, taking advantage of his intimidating presence. “So, really, it would probably be in your best interest to get out, like, now.”

 

The guy sneered, probably acting more confident than he felt. “Scare tactic?” 

 

Tony stared back him, expression steely, waiting to see how this would go down. He couldn’t afford to react now, before he truly knew what he was dealing with, but every single extra second that ticked by with Peter still over there felt like an eternity.

 

The guy shook his head, swiftly reaching behind him for the waistband of his pants with a fluid, confident motion, suddenly a hundred times more sure of himself than before. “Well, yeah, we got that whole scare tactic thing too.”

 

Yeah, no. Tony figured a little bit of overreaction was probably okay now.

 

Instantly, Tony jumped at the chance to amp up his response before the guy could even pull out whatever weapon he had hidden. His index finger immediately found the button hidden on the underside of his briefcase’s handle, and pressed hard and fast. Instantly, the briefcase sprang open, red and gold metal flinging itself at Tony’s nearest leg and began its race to cover him, bleeding red metal like blood over his pants. The guy froze in his motion with his hand half behind him, the thugs staggering back with startled yells and one cussing so colorfully Tony found himself somewhat stupidly wishing he could cover Peter’s ears.

 

The suit rapidly spread up to his waist, his chest, splitting in shining, twin paths to envelope his arms and speeding up his neck to his head, metal twisting and covering and moving entirely by the mercy of itself as Tony stood there and let it happen. The face plate snapped into place less than two seconds after the process began, leaving him in the completed armor with the now empty briefcase sitting patiently beside him, waiting for whenever it was next needed.

 

And suddenly, he was entirely Iron Man, protected and safe and powerful in his shining red and gold. His right arm raised and the the thugs stumbled back in horror and fear, the suit’s glowing palm centered on them and threatening to fire at any moment. 

 

“Out,” he said firmly.

 

They ran like scared school children, scrabbling over each other and letting Peter drop to the ground in their hurry to get away. The kid collapsed to the dirty concrete beneath him, coughing and rubbing at his throat, protectively curled over his backpack. Tony blasted after the thugs a few times for good measure as they ran, maybe just singeing the very edges of their shirt sleeves or the tips of their hair here or there and doing no real harm but still earning a few yelps of terror in the process. 

 

As soon as they were gone, Tony let the face of his helmet lift as he hurried over to Peter, the two of them now alone in the alleyway. The kid was still on his hands and knees, coughing with his head bowed and trembling so violently he looked like he was trapped in his own personal earthquake.

 

Tony dropped into a crouch beside him, letting his hand rest on his back as he quickly scanned him over, checking for blood or any evidence of injury. “FRIDAY, vitals,” he said quickly, unsure what went down before he arrived and what the damage might be.

 

FRIDAY obediently listed off stats out loud, reporting an elevated heart rate and blood pressure but no serious bodily harm, and Tony let out a breath of relief. He willed his own elevated heart rate to drop back down to healthy territory and quietly waited out Peter’s hacking fit with a hand still on the kid’s back, knowing they both needed the moment to process.

 

Peter’s coughs began to taper off once the feeling of a hand around his neck started to fade, instead being replaced by shaky breaths that sounded more like wheezes. He pushed himself back into a sitting position, Tony’s hand moving to his shoulder instead.

 

Finally, once he’d caught his breath, Peter shot a somewhat weak, shaky smile Tony’s way and rasped, “Uh, hey, Mr. Stark.”

 

Damn this kid.

 

Tony thudded down from his crouch so that he was sitting on the ground as well, releasing a sigh and fighting the urge to rub at his temples in an attempt to alleviate the headache he felt forming. Experience told him that wasn’t the best idea while he was still wearing the suit. “Well, there goes about fifteen years of my life I’m never seeing again,” he said flatly, throwing a blunt look Peter’s way.

 

“Sorry,” Peter said hoarsely, half wincing as he rubbed at his bruised throat. He leaned back against the wall, his backpack safely by his side as he looked towards Tony, voice brightening slightly even as the subtle strain remained. “But, like, thanks for saving me there. Wasn’t sure how that one was going to work out, honestly. They kind of had me convinced that I was doomed for a second there-”

 

“What the hell even happened?” Tony asked. His own adrenaline high was beginning to fade, leaving him weary and somewhat resigned to the situation. He still wanted to know how all this came to be, though. After that whole shebang, he was eager to hear this explanation, because something told him Peter had something to do with him getting targeted.

 

Peter winced again, this one looking far more related to the story behind what happened and less to the pain. “Uh, so, I saw a girl getting mugged on my way home from school,” he said, cautiously, like he was thinking about the words as he said them, “and I kind of decided, um, in the moment, that I didn’t _really_ need the suit to help.”

 

Tony groaned, his suspicions confirmed. “Peter-”

 

“I know, I know, it was stupid,” Peter said in a rush, quick to amend. He pulled his legs to his chest, taking a breath. “But she was in trouble and I just figured it was better me than her. At least I can defend myself.”

 

Tony threw him a flat look. “Yeah, and how did that one work out for you?”

 

“Uh, not so good,” Peter muttered. “Didn’t have the suit, so I couldn’t do much as, uh, just me. I just didn’t think.”

 

“No, you didn’t,” Tony sighed. He got why keeping Peter’s identity a secret was so important, he really did, but he beyond hated what it meant for the kid. With Peter being as recklessly selfless as he was, he had a regrettably frequent tendency to throw himself into risky situations no matter what role he was playing, and his protected identity left him basically helpless when he was confronted without the suit. And then situations like this happened, and it just full out sucked for all parties involved.

 

Tony shook his head, looking at Peter again warily. “You’re sure they didn’t hurt you?” he asked, knowing that it was basically unavoidable with how aggressive the thugs were, no matter what Peter claimed. Any sort of non life-threatening damage wouldn’t have been mentioned in the vitals check. That didn’t mean Tony didn’t want to know about it anyway. 

 

Again, shit like this always ended up majorly sucking for all parties involved. Injuries were included in that. 

 

Peter nodded uncertainly, his fingers brushing over his bruised throat almost unconsciously . “Yeah, yeah. I’m just a little banged up, but I’ll be healed by tonight.” He tried on a small smile. “Heh, yay healing factor.”

 

“Did the girl at least get away?” 

 

“She did,” Peter said brightly, letting his hand fall back into his lap. “She’s fine now.”

 

“And you…?”

 

“...kind of got kept instead, yeah, but, I mean, hey, it all ended up okay, once you came,” Peter resolved, looking a little sheepish as he looked up at Tony. “Thanks again for that.”

 

Tony sighed, filed the _you know, I won’t always be here_ talk away for another day, and glanced in Peter’s direction again. “Well, did they get anything from you?” he asked, one eyebrow raising fractionally. “Money or shit?”

 

“Oh. Uh, yeah.” Peter ducked his head, suddenly looking somber and guilty. Immediately, Tony’s concern surged again as Peter pursed his lips, avoiding Tony’s eyes. “Um, they may have, uh, kind of gotten my StarkPhone.”

 

Something in Tony softened, his concern fading as he realized why Peter was so worried about this. But before he could get even the chance to respond, Peter was talking again, remorse and apology coloring his voice. 

 

“I tried so hard to keep it safe after you gave it to me free and all last month and I appreciated that, I really did, but then they managed to get it and it distracted them from the backpack for a few minutes so I didn’t fight that much to get it back but I’m so, so sorry-“

 

“Geez, Peter, it’s okay,” Tony interrupted, shaking his head. “I don’t care about the phone, alright? It’s fine. It’s a phone, it’s replaceable. However, you’re not. Therefore, I’m a little more worried about you right about now.”

 

Peter looked a little startled, then a little embarrassed, ducking his head as his face flushed. “Heh, well, thanks, Mr. Stark,” he said. “But really, I’m okay.”

 

Tony looked at his still slightly trembling hands with a pointed expression. “You sure about that?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Just, uh, a little shaken up still, I guess,” Peter muttered, tacking on a breathy chuckle to the end of the sentence. He gazed at the ground with one hand still protectively on his backpack, still securely next to him. “I haven’t gotten mugged in a while. Looks like I’m out of practice.”

 

“Kid.”

 

Peter sighed, ducking his head slightly. He glanced up at Tony briefly, expression uncertain even as his eyes remained genuine. “I’ll be fine, Mr. Stark. I promise.”

 

However hesitant Tony was to believe Peter’s promises by this point, he did know the kid really would be okay. For stupidly selfless as he was, Peter snapped back fast, and once he got a few minutes to process he’d be fine. But seeing him helpless in the hands of those guys was something that wasn’t going to be fading from Tony’s memory anytime soon, more burned there than anything else. What might have happened if Tony hadn’t intervened when he did was going to haunt his nightmares for weeks. Today was, quite simply, way too close for comfort.

 

But.

 

But, Peter helped people like he breathed. It was much of a part of him as that messy hair and cracking voice, and that was a genuinely good thing despite its consequences, and Tony couldn’t help but be begrudgingly proud of him for that. 

 

“You need a ride?” Tony finally asked, breaking the silence.

 

Peter glanced up. “Oh, uh, thanks, but I’ve got patrol-“

 

“Not right now, you don’t,” Tony corrected briskly, already pushing himself to his feet. Peter stayed sitting as he watched Tony warily, his brow furrowing in confusion as he tried to work out what Tony meant. “I’m taking you home first. You’re gonna eat something, take a minute to breathe, maybe call your aunt and tell her what happened, and then go on patrol. It’ll take you an hour, tops. It won’t even screw up your schedule that much.”

 

Sighing, Peter seemed to be already recognizing defeat, but still tried to protest. “Mr. Stark-”

 

“Not up for debate, kid,” Tony said flatly. He walked over to retrieve his briefcase, the suit melting off of him and folding itself neatly back inside the case on his command. He clicked the briefcase shut and picked it up, plucking his sunglasses out of his pocket and putting them on almost mindlessly. “Now come on, Happy’s been waiting around the corner for, like, an hour now. My phone’s already been blowing up with texts from him for a while, so we should probably let him know we’re both still alive. He’s prone to worrying, you know.”

 

Peter scrambled to his feet as well, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and hurrying to catch up when Tony started striding out of the alleyway. “Wait, so he texts _you_ back?!” he demanded, falling into pace with Tony as they turned into the street.

 

Tony just shook his head, chuckling wryly under his breath.

 

He would replace whatever else Peter lost, since he knew there had to have been more than Peter admitted to. And maybe buy the kid a damn thing of pepper spray or something on top of it, because just the very idea of something like this happening again was nearly enough to send Tony sailing over the edge of the weirdly aggressive protectiveness only Peter seemed to be able to trigger in him. 

 

But that, he figured, was probably something to be figured out on another day, considering he still wanted to go home to his workshop and tune out the world for a few hours. This whole thing kind of put him more than a little behind on that, he had to catch up for lost time.

 

As they walked down the busy New York City sidewalk, Tony clapped a hand on Peter’s shoulder, steering them in the direction of the car and around a particularly large woman with a particularly large bag hanging off her arm, probably capable of taking them both out if they were weren’t careful. “You did good today, kid,” he said casually, not looking Peter’s way.

 

A small huff of a pleased, vaguely surprised chuckle. “Heh, thanks.”

 

“Yeah, but don’t think I’m saying you’re not still a moron for running into a dangerous situation without your suit, because you definitely are. You’re just a good-hearted moron. A moronic hero. A moron with morals, if you will.”

 

“Whatever you say, Mr. Stark.”


End file.
